


what belongs to the sea

by c_tristesse



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Merman Percy, Prince Percy, Princess Annabeth, The Little Mermaid AU, this is not original but i had fun so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:46:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27706457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c_tristesse/pseuds/c_tristesse
Summary: I'll sing you a song of the king of the sea, and it's hey to the starboard heave-ho / There's mermaids out there in the bottomless blue, in mysterious fathoms belowIn the kingdom of Atlantica, merfolk are forbidden from interacting with the humans who dwell on the land above. But Prince Perseus has never been great at following the rules- especially when a captivating gray-eyed princess has turned his head. What will he give up to be part of her world?
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Hazel Levesque/Frank Zhang, Jason Grace/Piper McLean, Juniper/Grover Underwood, frazel and jasiper are very background
Comments: 32
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's the little mermaid au nobody asked for but my disney-loving brain couldn't NOT do it. 
> 
> i strayed from the original plot enough that it's hopefully still an interesting read! <3 let me know what you think, i live for comments!!

In retrospect, skipping the concert to hunt for a shipwreck teetering on the edge of a supposedly bottomless trench, surrounded by ominous rock shelves and a graveyard of debris, was not one of Percy’s best ideas. 

Grover voices this opinion as they swim down past the kingdom’s boundaries, the water turning colder as they descend.

“Percy, this place is creepy. Can we go home? If we head back now, we’ll only be a little late to the -”

“Come on G-man, don’t get cold fins now! We’re almost there!” Percy interrupts, looking over his shoulder to shoot Grover a winning smile. His best friend remains unconvinced, casting nervous glances behind them as his seahorse tail curls up with anxiety.

“How do you even know that? Did Tyson really give you step-by-step directions on how to find this thing?” Grover asks between chattering teeth as a freezing current rushes by.

“Well, not exactly...he told me that Rainbow had seen it right around the trench, so I figured - ”

“Rainbow? You mean we swam all the way out chasing a rumor from a hippocampus?” Grover’s voice reaches a new octave between the combination of disbelief and fear.

Percy rolls his eyes, blue fin swishing out behind him. “Give me a bit more credit than that, it wasn’t just Rainbow. The dolphin patrols reported a wreck around here too, there’s definitely something!”

Grover mutters something unflattering about marine mammals under his breath but follows Percy’s lead. The sunlight filtering down from far above grows weaker and weaker as they approach the trench’s edge, casting an eerie green glow to the rocks and sand. 

Out of the gloom, the shipwreck appears: it’s cracked in two, the helm speared on a large rock formation and the stern dangling precipitously over the edge of the trench. Only a few planks of splintered wood hold the two halves together. The shredded remains of a sail, still barely attached to the mast, flutter in the current. Percy’s pulse quickens in anticipation. This was it! Nothing could beat the thrill from discovering something new, something from the world above. 

“It really is here.” Grover whispers, voice hushed in awe. 

“Guess Rainbow isn’t a dumb as you thought.” Percy says with a pointed glance. Grover elbows him in response.

“You first, Your Highness.”

Percy grins, eagerly swimming forward towards the top of the mast before spiraling down around it.

“Aren’t _you_ supposed to be protecting _me_?” Percy calls out as Grover hovers above him.

“Yeah, I’m protecting your tail! Hurry up and do your scavenging so we can get out of here.”

Percy didn’t need to be told twice. He swims down to the main deck at the point where the ship is torn in half, poking his head over the edge to peer below deck. The base of the rock spire takes up most of the empty space, but Percy could still make out a few things worth investigating: a large chest, a few open sacks, and a wooden vanity with a cracked mirror. 

Percy swims down and heaves the chest open, only to find a disappointing pile of gold coins- he already has several in his collection, but he scoops up the least mossy ones anyways, admiring the feel of the imprinted shapes under his thumb. 

The cloth sacks are empty, likely having lost their cargo on their way down, but the vanity is still standing. Percy wishes he could take the whole contraption back to the palace, but even if he could convince Grover to help him, it’s far too heavy to swim with. He notices a small golden knob attached to a drawer and pulls at it experimentally.

To Percy’s delight, there’s something inside: a blue knick-knack with thick bristles as soft as seaweed attached to a round top, and a handle carved to look like a venus comb. After turning it over in his hands, Percy delicately packs it away with the coins in his knapsack. 

_Percy, are you done down there yet? You know I hate swimming this deep,_ Grover’s voice sounds in his mind, a familiar panic bleeding through their empathy link.

Percy’s stomach clenches in sympathy. _Just a bit longer! I wanna check out the other half of the ship - it’ll take ten more minutes tops_ , Percy projects reassuringly. 

_You mean the part that’s in the trench?! Percy, no! That’s way too dangerous!_

_You say that every time_ , Percy points out, already swimming towards the stern, _And we’re always fine._

 _Define ‘always fine’_ , comes Grover’s worried response, _As I recall, we’re usually about to die. Like that time with the sharks?_

 _I had it under control_ , Percy replies. The stern side of the ship, despite dangling into the maw of the trench, is much more intact- Percy can see the remnants of wooden steps, which he’s seen humans use to walk up and down levels of their boats. He glides over to the stairs and he can’t help imagining - what would it be like to use them? 

_They were going to eat us both before Reyna stepped in!_ Grover’s voice interrupts him. Despite the concern in his friend’s thoughts, Percy can feel the laughter behind the memory and cracks a smile. 

_Please, I talked our way out of it before she even showed up. Son of the Sea King, remember?_

Something catches Percy’s eye as he runs his hands over the stair railing- a small bracelet made of black pearls. A tiny charm hangs off of it but Percy can’t quite tell what it is. He grabs it and holds it up to get a closer look: it looks almost like a spear, but the blade at the top is curved in a crescent-shape, almost like a scythe…

BOOM.

A deep rumbling sound, followed immediately by a sharp warning cry from Grover, grabs Percy’s attention. Suddenly, the stern is moving downwards: the planks of wood holding it together splinter loudly as if something is pulling the ship into the gorge below. 

With a sharp _CRACK!_ the wood snaps and the stern starts sinking rapidly - Percy tries to swim up with all his might, but it’s like trying to escape a whirlpool. The darkness below seems almost alive, reaching up with invisible arms to sucking the ship and Percy into the trench. 

Adrenaline kicks Percy’s mind into overdrive. He focuses his powers, bending the water around him to launch him out of the trench. He feels a sharp tug in his gut as the currents obey, propelling him up and up - he can see Grover a few feet above him at the lip of the trench, reaching his hand out desperately. 

With a shout, he kicks up and grabs Grover’s outstretched hand. The two friends tumble back onto the ledge as the ship disappears behind them. 

Percy can swear he hears a dark laugh emanating from the depths of the trench. Grover and Percy lay stunned in the sand, silent except for their heavy breathing. 

“What was that?” Percy asks after a few minutes, his pulse finally returning to normal. Grover turns to him, lips still white and eyes wide with terror. _I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out. Can we please leave now?_ he begs in Percy’s mind, too shaken to reply aloud. 

Percy takes a deep breath and nods in agreement. _Thanks for the save, G-man,_ he projects sincerely, as the two swim away from the trench without looking back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So what is it?” 

Percy has his chin propped up in both hands, elbows resting on a shelf of rock jutting up just above the surface. This far away from shore, he’s not concerned about any human eyes - which is why it’s the perfect place to meet with Blackjack after a scavenging trip. The black seagull is perched on Percy’s head, quizzically eyeing the item laid out before him.

_Well, boss, to be honest, I’m not totally sure...but if I hadta guess, you’re lookin’ at a dinglehopper._

Percy blinks as Blackjack hops onto the rock to prod the blue handle with a webbed foot. 

“A dinglehopper? What does it do?”

“It’s getting us in trouble, that’s what,” Grover grumbles from the other side of the rock. His color has finally returned after their close-call in the shipwreck, but he’s clearly anxious about being above the surface of the water. 

“We already missed the concert, how much more trouble could we possibly be in?” Percy points out. “Just relax, we’ve only been up here a minute, my dad’ll never find out.” 

“It might not be a big deal for _you_ to break the law, but I’d like to keep my tail attached, thank you very much.” Grover shoots back at him before sinking below the water with a small splash. 

Blackjack tilts his head in response. _What’s the deal with your friend, boss? Too much kelp for breakfast?_

Percy huffs out a laugh. “Don’t worry about it, he just forgets he’s not a guppy sometimes. Tell me about the dinglehopper!”

Blackjack picks up the handle of Percy’s latest memento in his beak and swishes his head back and forth experimentally. 

_OK, here’s the deal boss. The dinglehopper here is a deadly weapon- humans use it when they’ve really gotta get someone good. You aim it straight at the eye and BAM! Knocks ‘em right out._

Percy’s face lights up with excitement as he reaches his palm out for Blackjack to drop the bauble into. “Wow, a weapon? I never would have guessed, it doesn’t look dangerous at all.” Percy runs his hand around the smooth handle with renewed respect, careful to avoid the bristles. 

_Percy, it’s almost sunset! Can we please head back? Someone in the court is definitely going to notice we’re gone if they haven’t already!_ Grover’s voice chimes in Percy’s head from below the waves. With a wistful sigh, Percy puts the dinglehopper back in his pouch, relishing the last few moments of the breeze ruffling his hair. “Thanks again, Blackjack!” he says with a salute. 

Blackjack flaps his wings in response, preparing to sail off. A few stray feathers shake loose and Percy picks one up, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger. “You mind if I grab one of these for my baby brother?” Percy asks.

 _Anything for you, boss!_ Blackjack caws out happily as he flies into the sky, soaring over the waves. With one last longing look at the horizon, Percy dives below the waves to join his friend.

“Remind me again why that bird likes you so much?” Grover asks as they swim back towards the palace. The setting sun bathes the shallow water in an orange glow and Percy basks in the rays. Grover’s shoulders finally relax as they get further away from the surface, no longer blatantly disobeying royal orders.

“Honestly, it wasn’t a big deal - I saved him from a giant trevally once when he was flying too low and almost got snatched up for a snack,” Percy says with a shrug, “Ever since, he says he owes me his life and won’t stop calling me ‘boss’.”

Grover laughs at the disbelief in Percy’s voice. “You know, you _are_ technically a prince. It’s probably about time you get over people calling you by a title.” 

Percy’s nose wrinkles with distaste. Although he’d always known he was the son of a king, the concept of royalty had been abstract until a few years ago. His mother had insisted on raising him outside of the palace, away from the negative influences of court life until he was old enough to handle them. No one had called him “Prince Perseus” until he was 12, and he’d spent every year since trying to shrug off the label - with limited success. 

“You say that now, but who knows. Maybe dad’ll actually disinherit me this time.” Percy says, plastering on a sarcastic smile. 

Grover rolls his eyes at that. “Sure, Percy. Hey, I’ll race you to the reef - if we get a move on, I might have time to see Juniper before I have to make my report to the council!” Grover says happily, his tone already dreamy from the thought of seeing his girlfriend, the coral nymph. 

Percy’s lips twitch up into a smirk. “You’re on, G-man. Last one there’s in charge of cleaning the stables tonight!” He puts on a burst of speed, calling on the currents to carry him forward. 

“Percy! Come on, no cheating!” Grover calls out, but Percy’s already gotten his head start - the satyr’s complaints are drowned out by Percy’s laughter and the rush of bubbles. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No matter how many times Percy sees Atlantica from the outside, he’s still blown away by the grandeur of it all. Its gleaming gold towers and pearl gates stand majestically against the backdrop of the dark water, fluorescent blooms illuminating every metallic surface. The whole city seems to glow in the fading yellow light, glittering like the crown jewel of the kingdom that it is. 

Percy and Grover make their way through the city as quickly as possible, sticking close to the sandy floor to avoid detection. The paved pathway of the courtyard leading up to the Great Hall is lined with royal guards, all in formal armor for the ongoing concert - Percy lets out an involuntary shudder remembering how many times he’s polished their bronze shields as a punishment. 

He and Grover duck around to the left side of the castle gates and shimmy under a small hole between one of the fence posts and the sea floor, one of Percy’s many secret routes in and out of the castle. Above them, the gleaming golden doors to the concert hall open as a large crowd of chattering merfolk spill out into the courtyard. 

Percy shoots Grover a shit-eating grin. _See, perfect timing. When will you learn to trust me?_

Grover doesn’t deign to respond to that. Instead, he points to the crowd. _Look, it’s Tyson and Frank- should we join them?_

Percy nods and the two of them swim up to join their friends, inserting themselves seamlessly in the large crowd. Frank is currently in the form of a manta ray, only distinguishable from a real creature by the golden symbol of two crossed spears decorating his dorsum. Percy tugs on his tail as they come up from behind with a loud “BOO!”.

Frank yelps and turns into a hermit crab in surprise; as he sinks towards the ground, he peeks his head out of his shell and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees Percy’s face. “Percy! Grover! Where were you guys?” Frank asks as he shifts into a merman, the golden tattoo reappearing on his forearm. Tyson turns and gleefully shouts, “Brother!” before crushing Percy in a hug. 

“Oh you know, exploring new places, hunting for treasure,” Percy wheezes out from over Tyson’s shoulder. 

“Nearly dying,” Grover adds. 

“Same old, same old.” Percy finishes as Tyson releases him. “How was the concert?” Tyson’s outburst has started drawing looks from the crowd, so Percy shepherds them back towards the east tower entrance. With any luck, they can escape back to the barracks without anyone being the wiser. 

Tyson frowns. “Mr. Dionysus is very mad. He called for you to come to the stage and you were not there.” 

Percy smacks a hand to his forehead. “He called me up? I specifically told him I wasn’t going to come on stage!” he groans. 

“That’s probably why he did it.” says Grover sagely. 

“He’s on the warpath,” Frank intones, “Says you ruined the whole finale. You may want to avoid him for a while if you don’t want to be turned into a dolphin.” 

Percy shrugs. “So Mr. D is pissed, what else is new. I’ve been dodging the dolphin threat for years. More importantly, I have a surprise for you, Tyson!” Percy produces the black feather from his pouch with a flourish and hands it to Tyson. 

“Birdie!” Tyson exclaims joyfully as he takes the feather with reverent hands. His big brown eye shines with wonder and Percy beams in response. Their little group has almost made it to the spiral shell ramp leading down to their quarters when a booming voice echoes through the palace, shaking the biofluorescent chandeliers. 

“PERSEUS! REPORT TO THE THRONE ROOM THIS INSTANT.”

The group stops in their tracks and Percy winces as he recognizes the angry voice of his father. “We were this close,” he moans, head drooping down to bump against the alabaster walls. “Do you think he sounds ‘scrub all the palace tiles’ pissed, or ‘house arrest for a month’ pissed?”

“Only one way to find out,” says Grover mournfully. 

Frank claps a hand on both of their shoulders. “Want some moral support?”

Percy smiles up at his friend gratefully. “Let’s get this over with,” he sighs, and the group makes their way down the hall to the throne room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“...and it comes down to disrespect, sire. This so-called ‘prince’ has absolutely no consideration for any of his royal responsibilities, and to be frank, it reflects poorly on the entire court.” Dionysus sniffs contemptuously, his whiny voice bouncing off the pillars of the circular throne room. 

Percy knows from experience that they’ve reached the point in the lecture where Mr. D is almost done ranting himself out - next, his father will sigh, let Percy make his case, and then dole out the final punishment. Poseidon’s face is unreadable from atop his golden throne, one hand on his trident while the other hand rests on his temple. He looks like he wants to massage away a headache. Percy feels a small pang of guilt. 

“Father, I didn’t know I was supposed to make an appearance. It was a simple mistake. I didn’t mean to make anyone look bad - I mean, Mr. D can usually manage that without my help.”

He can hear Grover groan from the entrance hall behind him. Dionysus’s nostrils flare in anger and he opens his mouth to deliver a scathing response, but is interrupted by Poseidon’s calm voice. 

“Percy.” 

Percy’s gaze snaps up to meet his father’s eyes in shock. Poseidon rarely uses his preferred nickname, especially not in court. 

“I know you have felt a deep sadness since Sally’s passing. I know this is the reason you avoid music as well. But you are nearly 18 now, and as my son, you have a duty to master your powers and present yourself in court regardless of your personal feelings.”

Percy feels the old hurt rise in his chest at the mention of his mother, which he quickly tamps down. He refuses to let himself tear up while Dionysus has that stupid smirk on his face. 

“I can no longer turn a blind eye to your lack of participation,” Poseidon continues, “Starting tomorrow, you will complete dawn to sunset training with the praetors’ special infantry unit and join me for war council at midday.”

Percy’s face lights up in surprised excitement. Sitting in on military meetings with his father? Weapons training with Frank and Reyna, two of his closest friends? These are the parts of being a prince he’s actually been eager to take part in since he first moved to the palace. 

Nice! Frank projects to him with the mental image of a fist bump. Dionysus glowers, his pudgy purple fin swishing in anger.

“In addition, you will spend the evenings in the medical bay for vocal training under Dionysus’s supervision until he is satisfied with your healing capabilities.” Poseidon finishes calmly. 

Percy immediately deflates. Quality time with Dionysus for the foreseeable future was about as bad as it could get for a punishment, but he knows better than to argue with his dad. Dionysus’s mouth contorts like he’s been forced to swallow a worm. “But sire,” he starts, “My time in the evening will be extremely limited in preparation for-”

“No excuses!” Poseidon’s voice rings out with authority. “I don’t want to hear another word on this until Perseus is fully prepared for his coming-of-age ceremony.” He rises from the throne with an air of finality. “Tyson, accompany me to the forges. The rest of you are dismissed.”

“Yes, daddy!” Tyson bounds up to the center of the throne room as Percy breathes a sigh of relief. All things considered, he’d gotten a pretty good deal. He’s about to rejoin Grover and Frank at the entrance when he hears behind him, “Daddy, look what Percy got me!” 

Percy’s head whips around in time to see Tyson holding up the black feather. As if in slow motion, he sees his father’s brows draw together and tighten his grip on the trident as he realizes what the offending item is and where it must have come from. 

The room goes deathly quiet. Percy can feel the hairs on his arms rise as the water crackles with tension, heaviness gathering the way it does when his father is about to summon a typhoon. 

“You went up to the surface again?” 

Poseidon’s voice simmers with anger. He radiates fury as he turns his dark gaze on Percy. Tyson shrinks away, eye welling up with tears as he realizes his mistake.

“Nothing happened!” Percy replies quickly, but it does nothing to ameliorate his father’s temper. 

“How many times must we go through this, Perseus?! You could have been spotted by one of those- those barbarians! You put the entire kingdom at risk, not to mention gambling your own life!” Poseidon’s voice is thunderous. The golden pillars seem to shake with the vibrations, and Percy fears for a moment that his father will bring the room down by accident- Dionysus clearly has the same idea as he high-tails it out to the main hall. 

“As long as you live under my ocean, you’ll obey my laws. And I am never, ever to hear of you going to the surface again- is that clear?” Poseidon bellows, the end of his trident starting to glow with power. 

Percy stares back mutinously. His initial fear has morphed into righteous indignation at his father’s accusations. It’s not like Percy wasn’t careful! And it’s not like every single human is evil, either. He wants to talk back, but upon seeing the dangerous set to his father’s jaw, he swallows his irritation and gives a stiff nod. 

With that, Poseidon heaves a sigh. His posture relaxes as he lowers his trident, anger giving way to exhaustion. “Go.” Poseidon says with a tired wave of his hand as he turns away from his son.

Percy spins around sharply and rushes out, pain and anger still bubbling behind his clenched teeth. Grover and Frank are staring at him slack-jawed, but he brushes past them as fast as he can and doesn’t stop swimming until he’s far beyond the castle walls.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rachel finds him a few hours later, curled up in bed and staring at the wall. The small grotto he and his mother once called home is now his refuge at times like this - hardly anyone in the palace even knows about the small, secluded coves along the Montauk reef. Surrounded by the various human oddities he and Sally had collected throughout his childhood, every surface decorated with bright blue shells, he feels her presence like a phantom limb. He can almost pretend she’s going to come through the entryway, tray of kelp cookies in hand, and gently ask him -

“OK, what did you fuck up this time?”

Percy groans and pulls the sponge pillow over his head at the sound of Rachel’s voice. “Go away, Rachel,” his words come out muffled, “I want to be alone.”

“Not a chance, grumpy gills,” comes her annoyingly cheerful response. “I heard you got royally chewed out again?”

“How do you even know that already?”

“The Oracle works in mysterious ways, young sea urchin,” she says sagely. 

Percy narrows his eyes. “Grover told you, didn’t he.”

She smiles. “Actually, he didn’t need to this time. The whole ocean could probably hear His Majesty yelling.”

“So what, you’re here to rub it in?”

“Actually, I have some incredibly valuable information I thought would cheer you up. But given how crabby you’re being, I’m rethinking my generous offer to share it with you.” She replies primly. Percy rolls over to keep his back turned to her, pulling the pillow tighter over his ears to block her out.

 _I’m sorry for teasing. For real - are you OK?_ Her voice in his mind soft with genuine concern. Percy sighs. 

“He just...doesn’t get it. I don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t understand or he doesn’t want to understand, but ever since she died,” Percy’s throat starts to close up as the memories behind her unspoken name fill up the space between them. “I feel like I don’t even belong here. I’ll never be good enough for him anyways. I feel more alive when I’m up there- like at least I’m closer to her.” The words spill out with a few hot tears that Percy can’t stop from escaping.

Rachel sighs softly and floats over to him, golden tentacles billowing out around her. She arranges herself at the foot of the bed and strokes Percy’s tail fin gently. “You know he’s just worried about your safety. More and more merfolk living near the surface have been injured by human ships lately - he doesn’t want that to happen to you.” 

Her voice is a soothing balm to the stinging hurt of his father’s dismissal - he takes a deep breath and lets himself be comforted by her words despite not truly believing them. If his father was truly concerned about his well-being, he would understand how much of Percy’s happiness was intricately wrapped up in the surface world, in the human stories his mom had recounted for him from her own adventures. To deny that would be like cutting Sally out of his heart, and that is one thing Percy will absolutely never do. With one last sigh, Percy pushes himself out of bed and turns to face Rachel with a small smile. He’s never been able to hold on to a bad mood for long.

“So what’s this ‘incredibly valuable information’ you’ve got?”

Rachel’s smile turns sly, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. “How do you feel about crashing a birthday party tonight?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Annabeth stands on the shore, enjoying the sea breeze rustling her hair and the taste of salt on her lips as she surveys the ocean. The marble walls of the castle glow in the setting sun behind her, the proud seat of power for the peninsula kingdom of Parthenos. 

The waves are calm today but the water seems more mysterious as the daylight dims, as if concealing an entire world beneath its murky surface. 

“Looks like a perfect evening for sailing!” she calls out to her friends. But the small group on the dock doesn’t respond, too busy arguing with each other to pay her mind. Annabeth rolls her eyes as she makes her way over to break up the fight. 

“Leo, for the last time, this is going to be a _royal celebration_. We’re not taking one of your gods-forsaken experiments out on open water for Annabeth’s birthday!” Piper’s eyes flash with irritation as Leo puts down the gangplank to a medium-sized trireme. 

“It’s not an experiment,“ comes Leo’s highly affronted voice, “it’s a masterpiece! Getting to take the Argo II out for her maiden voyage is an honor that Annabeth should be _thanking_ me for - ”

“A ‘masterpiece’? Seriously? Remind me, what happened to the Argo I? Because as I recall, it somehow managed to light itself on fire - ” 

“That was NOT my fault - ”

“We almost drowned, Leo! The queen was furious - ”

“ - and you’re just mad because your prince over there found out you couldn’t swim!”

“Please leave me out of this,” Jason groans from the sidelines. Silena giggles in amusement and Charles shakes his head. The rest of the royal navy carries on around them, preparing for departure while steadfastly ignoring the shouting match. 

There was nothing new about Lady Piper, the most tempestuous member of Annabeth’s retinue, trying to win an argument; unfortunately, Leo knew her too well to fall victim to her usual powers of persuasion.

“No, it was because I was the one who had to explain to Her Majesty why her daughter’s eyebrows were _singed off_ \- ”

“Give me a break Beauty Queen, the worst thing that happened was you getting seaweed in your hair.”

“Leo! Piper! Cut it out!” Annabeth’s authoritative tone rings out across the dock, effectively shutting up the bickering pair. Jason, Silena, and Charles breathe a sigh of relief at her intervention. 

“Piper, I appreciate you looking out for our safety. But I actually helped Leo with the designs for the Argo II,” Annabeth says with a wry smile, “so I promise it’s seaworthy.” Leo initially looks insulted at her words, but after a pointed look from Beckendorf, he just shrugs. “She did completely rework the rudder,” Leo acquiesces. 

“She also streamlined the rigging and reinforced the hatches, which is more than I can say for the rest of your team.” Charles adds. Annabeth looks pleased at the compliment from the captain of the royal engineers corps. Leo just huffs in annoyance

“Fine, _whatever_ , it’s all thanks to Her Royal Highness’s assistance - ” Piper starts to make a retort at Leo’s sarcastic tone, but he plows on, “ - so can we just go now? I want to ship out before low tide!” 

Annabeth laughs and nods her assent. Leo gives a mock salute before dashing up to the deck to fiddle with the anchor before anyone can even blink. Charles follows him with a sigh, issuing out orders to the rest of the crew. Annabeth turns to Piper and Silena. 

“If either of you are worried, please don’t force yourselves to accompany me. I can survive one night without my ladies-in-waiting.”

Piper rolls her eyes fondly at Annabeth’s diplomatic tone. “Don’t insult us. You know we wouldn’t miss your 18th birthday for the world.”

“And Piper wouldn’t want to miss a single hour away from Prince Jason.” Silena chimes in as the three of them ascend the gangplank. Piper blushes furiously and stammers out words of protest.

She had a point - the end of Jason’s term staying in the court of Parthenos was drawing to a close, just as Annabeth’s brother Malcolm would soon be returning from Olympia. Queen Athena and her cortege had left just yesterday to collect him. It was a tradition for the royal families that had preserved peace between Parthenos and Olympia for centuries, and given the tumultuous events of the year so far (ships disappearing at sea, patrols at the borders vanishing, whispered reports of monsters appearing from the shadows), that truce could not be more important. 

Annabeth puts these heavy thoughts behind her as the Argo II moves out of the harbor. She feels like she’s flying when the sails unfurl - the responsibilities of the kingdom roll off her shoulders as wind picks up. The churning sea resonates in her bones and she closes her eyes to savor the feeling. It’s almost like something in the watery expanse is calling to her the further they get from shore, drawing her in like it always does. Tonight, Annabeth swears, she’ll find out what. 

If only she knew what she was looking for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to sally jackson: you deserved better and i am so so sorry ;_;
> 
> hopefully through with exposition after this and next chapter will have some actual interaction between our fave couple!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i listened to part of your world (reprise) on repeat while getting this out- hopefully it was worth it and it captures the same magic of the original! 
> 
> drop me a comment and let me know how i did <3

Despite being raised to see human ships as weapons of mass murder, Percy can’t help but think there is something strikingly beautiful about them. This vessel in particular captures his attention: the unforgiving way it slices through the water, the harsh lines of its prow, and the gleam of the white sails in the moonlight are both fascinating and haunting to him.

Rachel clearly does not feel the same way. She shudders at the sight of the trireme as soon as they pop their heads above the choppy waves.

“Ugh, these big ones are so creepy. Can you believe the humans give them names? I’ve seen this one in my visions before, it’s called the ‘Argo II'.”

Percy perks up, delighted to learn any new fact about the surface world. “Wow, really? Since when do you have visions about human stuff?”

Rachel frowns. “It’s been happening more and more recently, especially when I’m scrying your future. Almost like your destiny is starting to get tangled up in theirs,” her gaze is unfocused for a moment, as if looking at something far away. “Or maybe you’re just daydreaming too much about that blonde one,” she finishes with a teasing grin.

Percy feels his cheeks warm and wonders why he ever confided in Rachel about the princes of Parthenos. “Seems like  _ you’re _ the one actually dreaming about her, thank you very much.”

“I’m sorry, would you prefer I don’t inform you next time there’s a golden opportunity to visit your crush?”

He sputters at that - he can’t exactly deny it - but is saved from having to respond by a sudden explosion going off above them. Percy and Rachel both startle at the sound and scan the horizon for the danger, but instead find themselves mesmerized by the multicolored particles of light tracing patterns in the heavens. They were accustomed to the biofluorescent lanterns of oceanic life and the Greek fire used in the forges but had never seen a display like this.

Even Rachel, a sorceress capable of incredible feats of magic, gazes on slack-jawed. Spirals of lights arc through the sky before bursting into jets and coils. Sparks erupt into whirls that shimmer like gold before dissipating into the night. Distantly, Percy recognizes the sounds of cheering coming from the ship.

“Do you think they made these?” Percy’s voice is filled with wonder.

Rachel shakes her head in disbelief. “If they did, I don’t know if I’m more impressed or terrified.”

The booming continues overhead, loud enough that Percy can feel the vibrations rattle his bones. The explosions leave stars behind his eyes but can’t bring himself to look away for even a moment. “Tyson would have loved this,” he sighs wistfully.

“Why didn’t you ask him to come?” Rachel asks, “Or Frank? Or Hazel? I know they don’t love breaking the rules, but none of them would ever turn down an adventure with you.”

A shadow crosses Percy’s face. Truthfully, he was avoiding the role of ‘Prince Perseus’ anymore today - and as much as Tyson and their other friends treated him as an equal, he can never quite escape the sense of responsibility they placed on him as their future king. Rachel is the only exception to this, having been a palace outsider just like Percy until she was chosen as the host of the Oracle. They had arrived nearly at the same time, two lost kids trying to fill roles they feared they would never live up to. He can be himself around her without feeling like a disappointment waiting to happen.

“Just didn’t want to get anyone else in trouble today,” Percy responds after a beat.

Rachel gives him a sidelong glance that lets him know she’s seen right through the half-truth, but she decides not to call him out on it.

The fireworks end, leaving the night sky a blank canvas without their brilliant colors to fill it. Percy feels a profound sense of emptiness at their loss. He doesn’t want this moment to end, not yet. 

Seized by this thought, he dives beneath the waves and propels himself towards the ship as fast as he can.

_ Percy, where do you think you’re going?  _ Rachel’s voice sounds more annoyed than worried.

_ I just want to get a closer look _ , he projects back to her,  _ And it’s too dark for them to notice me. Who knows if I’ll ever get a chance like this again? _

He can sense Rachel rolling her eyes at that but she makes no move to chase after him. Percy surfaces next to the trireme - up close, it’s even more massive than he imagined, a hulking beast of wood with a golden dragon figurehead jutting out from the front. It looms so tall that Percy has to strain his neck upwards just to see the ship’s railing. The sounds of boisterous music and conversation float down to him from high, high above.

Feeling reckless, he grasps on to the thick rope hanging over the side, taut from the weight of the anchor attached far below. He hauls himself up the rope hand over hand, arms burning from exertion, until he’s just next to a small gap in the deck likely used to haul the anchor in and out of sea. Percy situates himself precariously on a carved beam protruding from the hull, pressing himself into the wood as much as possible to stay hidden.

His heart pounds frantically from excitement and trepidation at being this close. Percy holds his breath, praying that no one has spotted him- but even after a few tense minutes, no sounds of shock or alarm come. Deciding it’s safe, Percy peers cautiously around the side of the gap and almost gasps out loud.

There is a huge throng of humans milling about, more than Percy has ever seen in his life, illuminated in the yellow glow of the lanterns strung up everywhere. A small group in the center play instruments - he recognizes the silver snarfblatt from Blackjack’s descriptions - while most of the crowd clap their hands and sing along. A few party-goers have paired off and are circling each other as they lift their knees in what Percy knows to be the human version of dancing. He rests his head in the crook of his elbow, completely entranced by the festivity of the scene before him.

A loud bark of laughter draws his attention. A dark-skinned man with broad shoulders has his head thrown in amusement back as a furry creature tries to lick his face. Percy briefly wonders if the man is going to be eaten, but then his eyes fall on the woman next to him and all other thoughts come to a screeching halt.

She leans against the mast with an effortless grace that takes his breath away. Her face is happy and her eyes shine with mirth, an easy smile playing across her mouth. She’s dressed in a plain shirt with black breeches, the tiara perched on her honey-colored curls the only thing to mark her as royalty. He recognizes the shape of her name on her friend's lips:  _ Annabeth _ . 

He’s never seen her this close before, close enough to make out the color of her eyes (a lucid gray, sharp as a blade), the shape of her hands (slender yet firm as she shoves playfully at her friend’s arm), the set of her shoulders (commanding and confident, a natural leader). Every detail about her fascinates him, draws him in deeper - like the moon to the tide, he can’t look away.

So he doesn’t even try.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m serious Charles, they were incredible. You should be going into pyrotechnics instead of engineering!” Annabeth says with an earnest smile. The fireworks had been a complete surprise and she had been unabashedly dazzled by the display: as soon as the show had ended and she was no longer struck speechless, she had been hounding Beckendorf with praise.

Charles guffaws at that. “I hope that doesn’t mean I’m out of a job soon, Your Majesty,” he manages to get out between fending off kisses from Mrs. O’Leary. “Down, you silly mutt!” 

His command is affectionate without any real heat behind it but the mastiff finally ceases her assault. She bounds off towards the other side of the boat, tail wagging gleefully and she barks at something through a small hole in the deck. Something in that direction catches Annabeth’s eye - a flash of green? - but before she can follow Mrs. O’Leary to investigate, Piper dashes toward her wraps Annabeth in a tight hug.

“It’s finally past midnight!” The brunette exclaims before pulling away, “Happy birthday, Annabeth!”

“Thanks, Piper,” Annabeth says with a quick squeeze to her friend’s shoulder. “And thanks for planning the party, it’s absolutely perfect.” Piper waves her hand as if to brush off the compliment. Charles gives a quick bow to both women and takes his leave.

“Do you feel any different?” Piper asks curiously, eyes sparkling.

Annabeth laughs at that. “Of course not, silly. Did you really think turning 18 would magically transform me into a different person?”

“But you’re  _ 18 _ ! It’s such a big deal! You could officially take the throne - you could get married if you want!”

Annabeth wrinkles her nose in disgust. Courtship was definitely not something she was looking forward to. Piper cracks up at the look on her face, but her expression turns wistful as she spies Jason making his way over to them.

“I’m sure your mother would be ecstatic if the second prince of Olympia asked for your hand, now that you’re both of age.” Piper’s tone is light but Annabeth can easily discern the sadness in her friend’s voice.

“That’ll never happen, Pipes.” Annabeth assures her, “Ignoring the fact that he only has eyes for  _ you _ \- ” Piper flushes and mumbles a quick denial “ - you know he and Thalia are practically my siblings. You have nothing to worry about,” she finishes with a wink.

Her words are enough to mollify Piper. Jason approaches and her blush deepens to scarlet as the prince places a lingering kiss to her hand in greeting. He turns to press a much more chaste kiss to Annabeth’s cheek before saying, “Many happy returns for the day, Your Highness.” Annabeth rolls her eyes at the formal address but accepts his wishes with a smile.

Piper composes herself as a queue begins to form behind Jason, nobility and commoners alike eager to congratulate their crown princess. “We were just discussing courtship,” Piper says, directing a sweet smile towards Jason. His eyes widen and Annabeth swears she can actually hear the poor boy swallow.

“Mine, not hers.” Annabeth clarifies drily. Jason clears his throat with a look of relief.

“Ah, yes. Well, of course we’ll find only the best suitor in the country for the Princess of Parthenos,” he says with a grin. “Someone with wit and charm - ”

“And devilishly good looks,” Piper adds coyly.

Annabeth snorts. “Fat chance of that. I’m more likely to be struck by lightning.”

As if on command, ominous clouds appear out of nowhere and gather in a swirling tempest. The sea churns violently, the sky rumbles in anger - and suddenly the Argo II is caught up in the worst storm Annabeth has ever seen. 

A bolt of electricity strikes the main mast and the sails immediately catch fire, consuming fabric and wood at a breakneck speed. Annabeth stares aghast as the deck erupts into pure chaos: guests are screaming while the crew scrambles to secure the rigging. The ship rocks dangerously and water splashes on the deck. The touch of Piper’s hand on her shoulder and the look of fear in her eyes is what snaps Annabeth out of her daze.

“Leo! Charles! Batten the hatches! Connor and Travis, prepare the lifeboats! Jason, help Piper and Silena get everyone else off the ship!”

Annabeth races across the deck as the ship heaves again, tossed about by the furious waves below. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Connor and Travis rushing to follow her orders, Jason already ushering guests out of harm’s way.

She scales the stairs to the helm quick as a flash and sees the wheel spinning wildly out of control. She grabs on, adrenaline and sheer will giving her the strength to resist the ocean’s pull against the steering. She takes control of the wheel and forces the ship to right itself - just in time, as another colossal wave crashes against the hull and almost capsizes them.

The saltwater stings Annabeth’s eyes, the wind so strong it would blow her overboard if not for her deathgrip on the helm. Leo and Charles emerge from below decks completely drenched, looking around frantically. 

Leo’s despair brings him to his knees, tormented at the sight of his most beloved project being consumed by flames. Jason yells to draw their attention, but his words are drowned out by the roaring thunder - he motions wildly overboard and Annabeth sees the lifeboats, filled with people, are already safely drifting out to sea.

Annabeth meets Charles’ desperate gaze with a steady nod. The brawny captain hefts a distraught Leo over his shoulder and tosses him over the railing before diving in after him. Annabeth rushes to the prow and makes to do the same, until a terrified bark makes her blood run cold as ice.

On the other side of the ship, Mrs. O’Leary is surrounded by burning debris, flames encroaching on all sides. 

Without a second thought, Annabeth leaps down to the deck, ignoring the sound of Charles yelling from below. The smoke is getting heavier and her eyes are burning - it’s all she can do to follow the sound of Mrs. O’Leary’s frantic howls and dodge splintering pieces of wood as they fall around her.

“Come on, girl! You’ve got to jump!” Annabeth calls out to the dog, coughing as fumes fill her lungs. She looks up in time to see the mastiff leap over the smoldering remains of the banquet table, straight into Annabeth’s open arms. She makes straight for the railing with the large dog in tow, ready to hurl them both into the waves waiting below. Just as Annabeth hoists Mrs. O’Leary overboard, she hears a large CRACK! and looks up to see the now-destroyed mast hurtling towards her, too fast to even think about dodging.

Her last coherent thought before the world goes black is to wonder what god of the sea hated her enough to kill her on her birthday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Percy and Rachel watch the scene play out in horror: the sudden storm, the strike of lightning, the fire, the panicked rush to the lifeboats. Percy had retreated back to where Rachel was waiting after his close call with the creature on the deck - the animal had managed to lick his face before he could dive back into the safety of the water. Now, he’s ready to turn right back around even if it means risking discovery because he can’t stand feeling so helpless when all these people are in danger-

Percy’s heart stops as he sees a blonde figure step up on the ship’s railing, only to be struck down by collapsing timber. He sees her body go limp and she falls, swift as a stone, into the waves below.

Percy is moving before his brain can even catch up to what his eyes just witnessed. He dashes below the waves, calling on every current available to push him towards her, faster,  _ faster _ -

He sees her sinking slowly among the wreckage of the ship. Her curls have come loose and surround her face like a halo, her skin pale in the eerie light of the fire raging above.

She’s not moving.

Percy doesn’t slow down, instead using his momentum to scoop her up into his arms without stopping. She can’t die, she absolutely  _ cannot _ be allowed to die. Not this girl, with her kind smile and fearless gait that Percy has been drawn to since he first noticed her walking along the shore so many years ago. The girl who, despite her status and her crown, looks most content in a weathered dinghy drifting out to sea with nothing but a book for company.

The girl who somehow makes him feel like she has all the answers to the questions he's spent his whole life longing to ask.

Percy breaks through the surface like a cannon going off. She is still motionless in his arms and he starts to panic, knowing that she should have immediately started gasping for air if she were conscious.

_ Get her to shore, Percy! _ Rachel’s voice, deep with the timbre of the Oracle, cuts through the fear in his mind. He focuses on swimming forward, careful to keep Annabeth's head above water. He knows the general direction of the docks she must have come from, but there is a secluded stretch of beach much closer- it’s a spot Percy knows well from his scavenging trips, having found countless trinkets washed up near the waterfront. He summons all of his power to move them towards the coast as fast as possible.

The first rays of dawn are just starting to peak out from the horizon as Percy propels them both ashore. He sets her down gingerly in the sand and drapes himself over her, waves lapping at her toes and his fin. 

He delicately brushes a few loose curls behind her ear as he takes in her injuries. Her clothes are torn and littered with burns. Blood oozes from a large cut on her forehead, right where she had been struck. Her respirations are so shallow that Percy can only just make out her breathing. She’s barely clinging on to life.

There’s only one thing Percy can think to do. Trembling, he brings a hand to her cheek and reaches within himself for the healing magic, the first melody he can remember coming to his lips:

_ Hush now, my baby _

_ Be still now, don’t cry _

_ Sleep as you’re rocked by the stream _

_ Sleep and remember my last lullaby _

_ So I’ll be with you when you dream _

His voice is husky with disuse. He can’t even remember the last time he had sung in earnest - he had locked away all things related to music the day Sally died and let that piece of his soul wither away. It takes effort now to keep his voice from cracking. He strives for the dulcet tones his mother had used to sing him to sleep, channeling her memory into the song.

A golden glow spreads from his fingertips to Annabeth’s face, knitting together her open wound and returning the color to her skin. Percy feels himself relax as she starts to cough up water, eyes fluttering beneath her closed lids. The flow of magic ebbs as he murmurs the last note.

Percy immerses himself in this moment: the feel of her soft skin beneath his calloused hand, the sound of her breaths becoming steadier, the dark storm receding into a calm morning. Her hand twitches up to where his palm cradles her cheek and he would give anything, anything to just stay in the sunlight with her for just a second longer -

A loud bark startles him out of his reverie and he ducks beneath the waves in an instant. He swims a safe distance away before peeking out above the surface, just in time to see a small crowd - led by the black furry creature from before - shouting and running towards the beach. A blonde man helps the princess to her feet and a brown-haired girl embraces her tightly. Percy can just make out the tears of relief streaming down the newcomers' faces as Annabeth weakly pats the girl's back.

Sure that she is safe for the moment, Percy sinks back into the water where Rachel is waiting for him. She has that strange look in her eye again and he catches her muttering something about a crossroads before she comes back to herself. She grabs Percy by the ear and starting in on a lecture about how she forbids him from doing something so dangerous again, how dare he act so impulsively, she has half a mind to turn him into a slug if he’s going to be this stupid next time she tries to cheer him up…

Percy tunes out her voice, too busy cherishing the warmth on his fingertips from where Annabeth's hand met his. He doesn’t know why or how, but he can’t shake the feeling that he has set something in motion, something that will make their paths meet again. The thought fills his stomach with butterflies and warmth blooms in his chest, melting away the careful locks on his heart.

It feels like the first notes of a song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one of these days i will write something that does not include fireworks.
> 
> song shamelessly borrowed from 'the prince of egypt'- i needed a heartbreaking lullaby and couldn't think of anything more perfect!!!
> 
> thanks for reading :)


	3. Chapter 3

“Percy, for the love of Neptune, get your head out of the foam and pay attention!”

Reyna’s voice is exasperated as she slashes at him mercilessly. Percy barely manages to dodge out of the way, the blow glancing across his breastplate. He swings Riptide in a deadly arc towards her left side but she blocks- his sword clashes against hers, bronze and gold sparking. She easily parries the attack and forces his blade downwards with a twist to the hilt. Percy tries to resist but his muscles are _aching_ \- they’ve been sparring for hours - and he can’t maintain his grip. Riptide clatters out of his hand and Reyna points her weapon at his throat. 

Percy holds up his hands in surrender. “I yield,” he says with a long-suffering sigh. From the sidelines, Frank and Hazel stop their own spar to laugh at Percy’s expression.

Reyna removes her golden helmet, long braid swishing out behind her. “No shit,” she deadpans, sheathing her sword, “I think that’s your fifteenth loss this morning.”

“Best 16 out of 30?” Percy asks.

Reyna narrows her eyes at him. “Absolutely not.” 

“What, afraid you’ll lose?” He flashes her a shit-eating grin.

Reyna scoffs, unimpressed by his taunt. “Spare me the sass. I’ve been wiping the floor with you all morning and I’ve barely broken a sweat.” She whistles, summoning her pet sharks from where they’ve been resting under the sand. Aurum and Argentum circle her excitedly before coming to heel. 

“You’re somehow even more distracted than usual,” Reyna decides, “What’s going on?” She fixes him with a piercing look that says he’ll be swimming laps all afternoon if he doesn’t give her an answer all three of them find acceptable.

Percy lets out a nervous laugh. Memories of last night - _a fleeting touch of hands, sunlight on golden curls, the way she fit so perfectly in his arms_ \- rise to the forefront of his mind unbidden. He tries to block them out in case Reyna is actively sensing his thoughts, but he can’t help the giddy smile that pulls at his lips. “Nothing major. I was up late last night is all- didn’t get much sleep.”

Reyna looks dubious but the sharks seem unperturbed, happily nuzzling up against her fin, so she knows it’s not a lie. “Fine,” she acquiesces, “make sure to get some extra rest tonight then. We’ll be sparring again tomorrow and I won’t go so easy on you again.”

“That was _‘going easy’_?”

Reyna smirks and pulls her helm back over her head. “You’ll be running drills with Frank this afternoon while I oversee the legionnaires. Try not to let the new recruits show you up,” she calls over her shoulder before swimming off to the training fields. Aurum and Argentum follow her obediently. 

Percy runs a hand down his face and sinks to the floor. The sand settles around him as he heaves an exaggerated groan.

“Looks like you’re out of practice, Percy.” Hazel’s voice is light and teasing as she floats down to join him. She stabs her spatha into the sand and leans back against it. Frank flops down beside her, ready to take a break as well. 

“No amount of practice can save me from Reyna when she really wants to kick my ass,” comes Percy’s disgruntled response.

“True. But usually you can at least put up a fight.” Frank smiles at Percy’s dramatic sigh. “Seriously, I’ve never seen you so out of it- is everything OK?”

Percy’s smile turns dreamy. “Never been better, buddy,” Percy responds, stretching out his sore arms before bringing his hands to rest under his head. He gazes upwards with a blissful expression, yet again replaying his tender moment on the beach with the Annabeth. Everything about it had just felt so _right_ \- remembering her touch, he feels jittery and peaceful and elated and terrified all at the same time. He’s never felt this way before, the emotions raw and unfamiliar but exciting in their novelty. 

“Oh, I recognize that look.” Hazel says with a raise of her eyebrows, “Has our beloved prince finally fallen in love?” 

Percy’s ears turn bright red and Hazel gasps in delight, grabbing Frank’s shoulder excitedly. “Was I right?! Oh _Percy_ , that’s wonderful!”

Percy covers his face with his hands in a desperate attempt to hide his embarrassment. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes.” Hazel’s response is immediate. “I’m literally watching you swoon right now.”

“Who’s the lucky catch?” Frank asks eagerly. 

“Nope. Not happening,” Percy’s voice is muffled from underneath his palms, “I refuse to talk about this.”

Hazel huffs. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about! We just want to support you!”

Percy lowers his fingers just enough for Hazel to see the incredulous look in his eyes.“Seriously? Do you know how many times I’ve said those _exact_ same words to both of you?”

Frank and Hazel both blush and jump apart, suddenly very interested in looking anywhere but each other. “That is completely unrelated!” Hazel finally stammers out.

“Not to mention it would be against military regulations for a praetor and a centurion to be in a relationship-” Frank cuts in.

“-I haven’t even had my coming-of-age yet so it’s not even-”

“ _Alright_ , OK, I get it! Forget I mentioned it.” Percy interrupts, sitting up in the sand. “All I’m saying is, you guys of all people should understand why I might prefer to keep this whole situation quiet right now.”

Hazel’s face melts into one of understanding. She swims over to pat his back. “Of course, Percy. Just don’t forget that we’re always on your side, OK?” Her loving smile somehow reminds Percy of his mother- despite the fact that Hazel is younger than him, she’s always been the caretaker of their little group. 

“And when you’re ready to share, we’re ready to listen.” Frank adds earnestly. In a burst of affection, Percy throws an arm around Hazel’s shoulder and the other around Frank’s. He’s tempted to tell them about his adventure last night and the new feelings bubbling in his stomach - despite the fact that everything about this probably some form of treason, who can he trust with this secret if not his siblings-in-arms? - but before he can consider it further, the sound of the conch draws their attention.

Percy’s heart swoops in excitement. It’s time for midday council- he’s been anxiously awaiting this moment, to sit at his father’s side and be in the room where some of the kingdom’s most important decisions are made. He smacks a kiss to both his friends’ cheeks (leaving Hazel bemused and Frank embarrassed silly) and exuberantly swims off, tossing them a wave goodbye over his shoulder. 

None of them could have guessed it was their last morning together for a long, long time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second time Annabeth opens her eyes, she is greeted by the familiar sight of her bedroom canopy, complete with its embroidered constellations of the night sky. She remembers the _Argo II_ going up in flames, the mast knocking her out, waking up on the beach to her friends’ anxious faces. They had to assure her that Mrs. O’Leary and everyone else aboard the ship were safe and accounted for before she would agree to rest- she wonders how long it’s been since she climbed into bed and her head throbs. She cautiously reaches up to her forehead and feels gauze under her fingertips. The sound of a mortar and pestle clinking registers in her mind and she turns to see Will, standing over her nightstand with a bowl of freshly-ground herbs. He has bags under his eyes. 

Annabeth groans. “Have you been here all night?”

Will looks up from his poultice and shoots her an exasperated look. “Really? That’s what you’re going to ask me? Not, ‘Hey Will, how did I manage to avoid certain death?’ Or, ‘Gee, I wonder why I thought it was a good idea to stick around on a burning ship in the middle of a gods-forsaken hurricane?’ Because that’s what any sane person would be thinking first.” His voice is thick with sarcasm. 

Annabeth scowls. “I’m completely fine. You should be getting some sleep or prepping in the medical bay, not pulling all-nighters to babysit me.”

He fixes her with a severe stare. “Annabeth. You nearly drowned. When Piper and Jason found you on the beach, you were babbling nonsense- we thought you had brain damage on top of a laundry list of injuries. So forgive me for staying up a bit late to make sure you were going to survive the night.”

His tone is more disparaging than concerned, but Annabeth can detect a trace of distress in his stiff posture. She sighs. “Thank you for taking care of me,” she says in a gentler pitch, “Please don’t worry, I promise I’m feeling better.”

Will softens, at least somewhat appeased by this. “I’d be a lot less likely to worry if you promised to stop putting yourself in danger at the drop of a hat, but I guess I’ll take what I can get.” He smiles and sits on the edge of her bed, reaching to unwrap the bandages around her head. He casts a critical eye over her wounds.

“How’s it looking, doc?” Annabeth asks teasingly. She's been asking him this question in the exact same way since they were children, when he had first started his physician’s apprenticeship and she was a precocious 7-year-old constantly looking for a fight. 

He smiles as he shakes his head at her. “Honestly? Better than burns and cuts less than a day old have any right to. They look like they’ve been healing for days rather than hours,” his response is perplexed. “But keep these on anyways, if only to prevent infection.” He starts wrapping clean pads of gauze coated in a golden ointment around her various injuries. 

His words ignite a clear memory: the sand under her back, a hand brushing her hair away, the sensation of her cuts stitching themselves together and charred skin mending as an ethereal voice called her back to life. She sits up in bed suddenly, struck by a realization.

“Someone saved me.” 

Will freezes. He turns to her, expression guarded. Annabeth knows immediately that this is the 'babbling nonsense' he had referred to before and he was hoping it wouldn't come up again. “We found you alone, Annabeth.” 

“No,” she insists, “there was a boy, I’m sure of it. He carried me to shore and he- he healed me, somehow?”

Will’s voice is measured and careful, like he’s treading on glass. “That’s not possible. There were no other footsteps in the sand and no other ways off the shore.”

Annabeth shakes her head adamantly. “I _know_ someone else was there, Will. He must have just taken a rowboat back out to sea.”

“Annabeth, there were search teams combing the entire coast. Someone would have noticed another boat, especially that close to shore.”

“Why are you so determined to dismiss this?” Annabeth’s response is irritated, gray eyes blazing. “Do you think I would just make this up? He saved my life- you should be grateful to him, not trying to convince me he doesn’t exist!” 

Will puts his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I’m just laying out the facts, Your Highness. You went through a lot last night- not even including the emotional stress from a life-threatening event, you were hit hard enough to be concussed and inhaled more than a fair amount of smoke.”

Annabeth furrows her brow, clearly not swayed, but Will continues on. “All I’m saying is, in the state you were in, it’s possible some things didn’t happen exactly as you remember.”

Annabeth sighs. She can’t argue with his logic- but everything felt _so real_. And that voice? There’s no way she could imagine such a beautiful sound, as smooth and rich as liquid gold. She can almost remember the haunting melody - a lullaby? - on the tip of her tongue-

Her head throbs again and she winces. Will notices immediately. “Look, we can talk about this more after you’ve recovered, OK? You need more rest, it’s only been a few hours.” He fusses over her bandages once more before tucking her in.

A wave of exhaustion rolls over her, too tired to continue the debate. She settles under the covers and Will leaves her room, hopefully to get some rest of his own. But behind her closed lids, she remembers eyes the color of the ocean and the ghost of a touch on her cheek. The feeling comforts her as she drifts back into sleep, already dreaming of an angel who sings to her from just beneath the waves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meetings of Atlantica’s Royal Council were held in the king’s private tower, behind closed doors and secured by several veterans of the imperial guard. Most of the legionnaires currently in service were in their twenties, having volunteered for the honor of joining the kingdom’s defenders at a young age, but these soldiers were clearly older- they had graduated training long before Reyna or Frank took up the mantle as praetors and were fiercely loyal to the king alone. Percy has never seen so many of them in one place before and briefly wonders why his father had summoned them from the reserves corps. 

The atmosphere in the room is tense, as if the other councilors had made the same observation and were nervous about its implications. Their murmuring ceases instantly as soon as Poseidon enters the room. The king appears as dignified as always to Percy, but the underlying exhaustion apparent from the wrinkles under his eyes and the gray streaks in his long black beard. 

Poseidon takes his place at the head of the table filling the center of the room. Percy silently settles on his right. All eyes turn towards them and Percy can feel a weight on his shoulders from their expectant gazes.

“Esteemed council members, ” Poseidon begins, his deep voice echoing around the small chamber, “I thank you for your time today. Unfortunately, there are matters of national security to bring to your attention that must take precedence over our previous agenda.”

Concerned looks cross the faces of the attendees at this announcement but no one speaks a word of protest. Poseidon nods towards a Hundred Handed One seated across the table who Percy recognizes as Briares, the commander-in-chief of Atlantica’s military. 

Briares clears his throat. “I’ll be brief. Yesterday evening, we lost contact with the Fifth Cohort that was dispatched for reconnaissance near the Cliffs of Othrys.” He indicates the location on the war map laid out before them. “Around midnight, we found their bodies- every single one had been speared by harpoons.” 

Percy’s heart stops. Gasps erupt across the table. Leneus, one of the elder noble lords, faints.

“Several witnesses confirmed the presence human warship at approximately that time,” Briares continues solemnly, “Based on the available evidence, we believe this was a pre-meditated military strike.” 

The fear in the room is palpable. “Are you saying that the humans attacked them _on purpose_?” One of the council members asks in horror.

“Precisely.” Poseidon’s voice is like steel. “We have no choice but to take this as an act of war.” 

Percy blanches. The lightness he had been floating around with all morning turns to lead, sinking to the bottom of his stomach. This couldn’t be happening.

“The humans have grown deadlier over the past decade- more and more civilians have gone missing or have been injured, and now they have wiped out more than fifty of our bravest soldiers.” The king’s voice is heavy with sorrow. “We must rally all of our forces now and launch our own attack, or we’ll not survive a larger assault.”

There are murmurs of assent around the table. Percy feels the room spinning- he is so nauseous he can barely focus, can barely process the words his father is saying. 

“As you can see, I am calling upon the reserve battalions. I will hereby focus my own efforts on destroying every ship that enters our domain- I have already avenged the Fifth Cohort.” A grim look crosses Poseidon’s face. 

The rest of the council looks relieved at their king’s swift action but the realization hits Percy like a stab through the gut. The pain is so fierce it shocks him into speaking before he can think better of it. “The storm last night...that was you?” Percy asks shakily. 

Poseidon turns to his son, the edges of his mouth turning down in disapproval. “Do not interrupt, Perseus.”

Percy trembles with apprehension, putting his hand on the table just to stay steady. He’s never felt more physically ill. “Father, this- this must be some mistake. There’s no way those humans could have done this, you have to believe me, I was there-”

Poseidon’s eyes flash with anger. “Perseus, _enough_ with your nonsense! The humans have committed an unforgivable act of violence- if you continue to defend these savage brutes, I will have no choice but to consider you a traitor to this kingdom!“ he thunders. 

Percy shrinks back at his words. Thoughts race through his mind of how to convince his father that this is wrong, that the humans are not to blame, but he knows from the look on the king’s face that nothing will sway him. Percy’s mind shuts down, trying to process how he went from the happiest night of his life to this harrowing moment on the precipice of war. Around him, the council carries on with their discussion, the details barely registering through Percy’s daze.

“-and a specialized platoon to neutralize their leadership. They often travel by ship using this route, which will be an easy strike for Keto’s forces.”

“Agreed. The queen and princess of Parthenos should be our first targets-”

The familiar name snaps Percy out of his stupor. Cold dread grips his heart when he deciphers the topic of the discussion and why this council is suddenly focused on the same princess who has occupied his thoughts all day.

They’re going to kill her. 

“ _No._ ” Percy’s voice escapes as a whisper, too quiet for anyone except Poseidon to hear. His father spares him a questioning glance.

“I- I have to go.” Percy chokes out, just loud enough to be understandable. An inscrutable expression passes over the king’s face - concern? disappointment? impatience? - but Percy is already stumbling to escape this room, to escape this nightmare. He surges straight out the open window, not caring about the confused stares from the imperial guards on duty. His body is in overdrive but his mind is a jumble- he doesn’t know where to channel this adrenaline or which way is up at this point, so he just _moves_.

He doesn’t realize his body had a destination until he reaches the entrance of the oracle’s cavern. Heart still pumping with anxiety, he runs his hand against the smooth stone of the entrance in an attempt to collect himself. The cool sensation under his fingertips grounds him and keeps the panic at bay enough for him to at least swim inside. On a normal day, the cozy trappings of Rachel’s hideaway would bring him comfort: the plush fabrics covering the wall, the canvases and other artwork strewn about, and the bright paint splatters on every surface are as familiar as the back of his hand. But right now, none of these distractions ease the boulder of despair sitting on his chest.

He sees Rachel immediately, filing through her shelves of various ingredients. Nico di Angelo, a young sorcerer under her tutelage, stands to the side as she hands him glass vials. She gives Percy a warm smile as he rounds the entrance but her expression quickly transforms into one of concern at the look on his face. 

“Percy, what’s wrong?” She is at his side immediately, emerald eyes boring into bright green. 

He can’t answer, can’t find the words to describe how everything has suddenly gone completely wrong. Nico swims over to them as well, brows drawn together in worry.

“You’re shaking,” Rachel says, taking one of his cold hands between both of her warm ones. “Tell me what happened?” He can feel the gentle touch of her mind brushing against his. With a shuddering breath, he projects the news from war council: the massacre of the Fifth Cohort, the declaration of war, the unveiled threat against the princess of Parthenos. Rachel inhales sharply, tightening her grip on Percy’s hand as tears spring to her eyes. Even Nico, who always appears somewhat sullen, looks perturbed. 

Percy’s mind is still swirling but one memory stands out to him- Annabeth looking out over the deck of her ship, content, full of life, clear eyes sparkling with adventure. The sheer importance of her image, healthy and whole, gives him the strength to speak. “I need to protect her.” Percy’s voice is gravelly but unshakable in its conviction. “Can you help me?”

Rachel looks dismayed at his request. “How? There’s nothing we can do, Percy- even the Oracle can’t defy the king.”

“I can’t just stay here and do nothing.” Percy says hoarsely. “I have to at least warn her. I’ll strand myself on the beach to get her attention, if that’s what it takes.”

“And what good will that do? She won’t trust you. She’s more likely to think you’re some kind of monster and kill you on sight.” Nico says flatly. 

Percy’s anger flares at Nico’s tone, as if this is already a lost cause. “Then what do you suggest I do?! Turn into a human?”

Nico meets his heated gaze with a firm look. “Maybe.”

This brings Percy up short. He turns to Rachel. “Can you do that?” he asks, voice hushed at the thought of this new possibility.

Rachel draws away from him. “N-No, I can’t. I’m sorry Percy, I don’t have that kind of power, and there are laws of magic that prevent-”

“There is one way.” Nico cuts in with a measured voice. “The Pact of the Styx.”

Rachel glares daggers in Nico’s direction. “That’s not an option. It’s a forbidden ritual, and for good reason- it’s more likely to kill you than turn you into anything,” she states in no uncertain terms. Nico looks like he wants to argue but keeps silent at Rachel’s furious gaze.

Percy looks up at them. Suddenly, the pieces fall into place as clear as day: he feels a deep sense of clarity, of purpose. The world may have turned upside down but Percy’s heart is as steady as a compass. He knows exactly what will happen next.

“I’ll do it.” he says quietly.

“No, you most certainly will not!” Rachel’s response is immediate. “It’s way too risky-”

“Rachel, please.” Percy takes her hands in both of his. “Do you remember last night, when you told me to get her to shore? I know that was the Oracle speaking. It recognized her, somehow- it _knew_ she needed to be saved. She’s special.”

Tears track down Rachel’s face. She wants to disagree, to say that nothing matters more than his own safety, but something in her can’t refute his words. If she’s honest, she knows that the increasingly intense visions about this human are pointing to exactly what Percy had guessed: the princess of Parthenos has a vital role to play in the future of Atlantic and the balance of the realms forever. But Rachel pushes aside these thoughts because none of them matter compared to her most pressing concern right now. 

“Percy, please,” she whispers, voice tight and distraught. “You could die.”

For some reason, her acknowledgement of this reality only strengthens Percy’s resolve. He lets go of his fear and squeezes her hands, no longer shaking. “I need to try.”

Her expression turns desperate and she grips his shoulders, nails digging into his biceps. “No, you don’t! Just give me a few days, I’ll find of another way- I’ll summon the spirits, I’ll ask the Oracle for a prophecy-“

“We don’t have time, Rachel.” Percy’s voice is soft but sure.

She searches his face frantically. Percy can feel her thoughts churning, scrying for a different path or a way to convince him out of this. Her features are intense as she hunts through the twisted branches of the future, analyzing the many crossroads ahead. She can’t let him do this, there has to be a way to talk him out of this danger-

But she finds no answers. The weight of destiny sits heavily upon her as the truth makes itself clear: there is no way to prevent this. It is meant to happen and it must be so. The Oracle’s burden is to relay the fates, not defy them- she knows this, but never before has the knowledge left so bitter a sting in her soul. She sags in defeat. 

“OK.” Rachel’s voice is barely audible. With her hunched shoulders and forlorn expression, she looks smaller than her eighteen years. Percy feels a stab of guilt for causing her pain but pulls himself out of the instinct to comfort her. There isn’t a second to waste. 

“How does this pact work?” Percy asks.

Rachel only stares blankly, too drained to elaborate. Percy turns to Nico.

“It’s the oldest incarnation of equivalent exchange,” the younger boy explains. “Supposedly, it can grant you what you want most- but at the expense of something equally precious. We have no idea what it might take from you.” Nico’s voice is cautious, a warning.

Percy nods in understanding. “What do I need to do?”

“Focus your desire into the simplest terms possible,” Nico instructs, “and concentrate on your reasons behind it. The spell will sift through all your ties to this world in an attempt to determine its payment, so if you forget what you’re asking for, it could erase you completely.”

Percy takes a deep breath to quiet the turbulent emotions bubbling in his chest. Focusing has never been his strong suit, but for some reason, Annabeth’s face is crystal clear. “I’m ready.”

Nico meets Rachel’s tortured gaze, a silent question in his eyes- she gives a small nod. The cave is deathly still as the two sorcerers channel their magic. In unison, they begin chanting a language Percy has never heard before- their voices hum with ancient power, reverberating ominously in the dark cavern. Percy recognizes the green glow of Rachel’s magic thickening into fog around him. He yelps as the vapors touch his arm, searing into him like poison. He tries to withdraw but the cloud envelopes him instantly, burning every inch of his bare skin. He collapses to the ground in agony, teeth clenched to hold back cries of pain. 

Distantly, he can hear Rachel and Nico chanting faster. The otherworldly mist forms into a hand that reaches out to him and the sharp pain punctures his mind, scouring his memories with an acidic touch. Percy can feel parts of his identity dissolve away into the haze as he struggles to hold on to a single thought- Grover’s smile, Tyson’s crushing hugs, the sound of his mother’s voice. He can’t think, he can’t _breathe_ , it’s all he can do to not black out. 

The spell scrapes at his memories of Annabeth and he suddenly sees her face before him. He clamps down on it like a lifeline, refusing to let the spell pry her from his consciousness. He summons everything he has left to form a single, desperate wish:

 _Please, help me save her_.

The thought anchors him to reality. He feels the pull at his soul start to lessen and he focuses even harder, screwing his eyes shut to keep her image in front of him. As if in a dream, he sees her standing before him on the beach, reaching out a hand, pulling him up above the water-

Abruptly, the fog dissipates and the pain recedes. Rachel and Nico stop chanting to stare at him wide-eyed. Percy barely has time to wonder why the spell didn’t work before the burning sensation returns, a hundred times more intense, concentrated in the small of his back. It spreads like fire down to his tail, scorching through him, ripping him in half. He writhes in anguish as the pain reaches up to his gills, his chest. He tries to scream but no sound escapes his throat. 

The pain takes over everything. His vision blurs. His ears ring. Dimly, he notices Rachel yelling for help, Nico rushing out. The water suddenly feels oppressive around him, threatening to crush him. He gasps for breath but none comes- the water rushes into his lungs, choking him, strangling him. Rachel’s hands glow with green light and suddenly Percy is in a bubble of air, but the relief is short-lived as the pain in his lower body reaches a boiling point. 

As his consciousness slips away, he just barely perceives Grover and Frank above him, faces contorted in horror. The torture of this moment is overwhelming, but it’s the unique sensation of suffocating, of _drowning_ , that makes the last functioning part of Percy’s mind wonder if death wasn’t actually the better option. Warm hands grip his shoulder, Rachel is crying in his mind to _hold on Percy, just hold on-_ and then there is nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in my first outline of this, grover was supposed to do some fun 'under the sea' shenanigans...whoops. /shrug
> 
> i promise things won't be so dark in the next chapter- and annabeth will meet percy for real :) 
> 
> as always, thanks for reading and drop me a comment if you enjoyed! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW this chapter was such a struggle for me to get out for some reason! hopefully the ridiculous word count makes up for the delay haha. 
> 
> huge thank you to my writing bff [miss imaginmatrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imaginmatrix/pseuds/Imaginmatrix) for being my sounding board and cheerleader <3

It’s too bright.

That’s Percy’s first thought as his eyes flutter open, instantly squinting at the harsh sun that shines directly in his face. The light that filters down to his window in the depths of the ocean is weak and murky, amplified only by its reflection off the palace’s golden towers. And the glow of the blue algae lamp in his bedroom doesn’t radiate heat. In fact, the only time he ever feels this kind of brightness and warmth on his skin is...

On the surface.

Percy bolts upright and hears a small yelp in the back of his mind. He looks down to see himself sitting in a tidepool, well-hidden by a rock formation on all sides. The water is shallow, barely reaching his hips - through the clear water he can see a small, disgruntled octopus resting on top of his...his knee.

His _knee_.

Percy gapes. Memories of the transformation flash through his mind- the spell, the fiery pain, the feeling of not being able to breathe. How did he get here? Did the ritual really turn him into a human? Or could this all be some kind of vivid dream?

 _Percy, you’re alive!_ Frank’s voice in Percy’s mind is thick with relief. _We were so worried- you were so still for so long..._ The octopus plops onto the rocks and transforms into a seal, the golden emblem of crossed spears moving from a thin tentacle to a gray flipper. _How are you feeling?_ The bristles of hair along the seal’s muzzle brush against Percy’s cheek, as if Frank is trying to check his temperature.

Percy’s mind is too busy processing the fact that he has _legs_ to respond. Not completely convinced that he isn’t dead or dreaming, he cautiously tries to maneuver one of the new limbs that has replaced his fin. A knee rises out of the water, followed by a leg, then a foot.

Percy gapes in absolute astonishment.

He tries to move his toes. They wiggle in response. Percy’s face lights up with incredulous delight. _Frank, I’m a human!_

Even with the features of a seal, Frank’s distress is easy to recognize. _Don’t worry Percy, we can find a way to fix this. I’ll talk to Rachel, we’ll tell your dad -_

Percy’s eyes widen in automatic panic. _No! Frank, no, I- I asked for this. Rachel and Nico helped me because…_ Percy swallows, trying to find the courage to look his friend in the eye. _Because I couldn’t let my dad kill these humans. So please, don’t tell him._ Percy’s mental plea is colored with memories of the council meeting, the promise of coming battles, his fervent wish to protect one human in particular.

Frank reels with shock. Percy can feel his struggle to maintain the shape-shift as he processes the layers of news: sorrow at the loss of the Fifth Cohort, the desire for retribution tempered by the fear of all-out war, a flash of betrayal at Percy’s decision that quickly melts into understanding and remorse for the atrocity of their current situation. The two friends sit in silence, ruminating on the nature of their duties as soldiers and friends. After a long minute, Frank meets Percy’s eyes, his gaze is thoughtful and firm.

_I trust you, Percy. Do what you need to do. Reyna and I will try to avoid bloodshed as much as possible - and we’ll find a way to cover for you._

Percy’s heart fills with gratitude for his friend, spilling over and radiating out into his thoughts. _Thanks, Frank. You guys are the best- really._ Their tender moment is interrupted by a loud caw and the flapping of wings. A familiar black seagull swoops into view, landing on Frank’s back.

 _Boss! I thought I heard your yellin’ - what’s goin’ on?_ Blackjack hops off of Frank and onto one of Percy’s outstretched legs. Percy smiles at the sight of his old friend. _Blackjack! It’s so good to see you here._

_Same to you boss, same to you. But you know, I gotta say there’s somethin’ different about’cha today...didja do one of them kelp scrubs Porkpie was talkin’ about last week?_

Percy bites his lip to hold back a laugh. _Nope. Take another guess?_

Blackjack tilts his head quizzically. _Issit a new hair-do?_

Percy shakes his head with a ridiculous grin. He bounces the knee Blackjack is perched on, waiting for the realization to dawn.

_I can’t quite put my foot on it, boss, but I’m sure if just stand here long enough -_

_I’ve got LEGS, Blackjack!_ Percy interrupts, unable to hold back anymore. The bird leaps into the air with a surprised squawk, jumping from Percy’s knee to the top of his head. After a ruffled moment, he responds with an unsure tone. _I knew that, boss._

Percy snorts, entertained by the sheer absurdity of this entire conversation. Frank does not look amused.

 _Blackjack, I’m trying to find the princess of Parthenos - do you know where she is?_ Percy queries.

 _You mean the blonde broad you’re always askin’ about? Yeah, boss, she lives up in that fancy place up there._ Blackjack extends a wing towards the gleaming stone palace in the distance.

Frank rolls his eyes at that. _Your detective work is astounding today, Blackjack._

Percy ignores his friend’s sarcastic tone. _I need to speak to her as soon as possible. Can you help me get in there?_

Blackjack puffs out his feathers and crows proudly. _Who’dya think you’re askin’, boss? Of course I can!_ Blackjack hops off Percy’s head and starts probing the nearby wreckage intently.

Frank gives Percy a look. _Are you sure trying to find her yourself is the best approach? I know you believe in Blackjack, but he doesn’t always have the uh...brightest ideas._ He projects quietly, trying to shield his thoughts from the bird.

Percy looks down at his new feet, deep in thought. The initial thrill of success and the novelty of his new limbs are starting to give way to fear and uncertainty. It’s not like there’s a manual for him to follow on how to prevent a catastrophic war between humans and merfolk after barely surviving a forbidden ritual. But he had to believe in the gut feeling that had gotten him this far- he had made it through the Pact of the Styx for a reason, and even Rachel had admitted that fate was pushing him towards Annabeth. Despite Frank’s consternation and Percy’s own anxieties about being out of his element and without a plan, he can’t help but feel...hopeful. It's the way he always feels when he thinks of her. _Don’t worry, Frank. I’m an expert at winging it._

Frank groans at the awful pun. _Percy, please be serious. What if you’re in danger? Or we need to contact you?_

Percy puzzles over this for a second before turning to Blackjack, struck with an idea. _Hey Blackjack, you know all the seagulls around here, right?_

_You kiddin’ me, boss? Ain’t nobody ‘round here I don’t know! I’m practically in charge of the whole lot of ‘em._

_Could we ask you guys to run messages for us, just for a little while? You’d be saving my skin._

Blackjack’s eyes gleam with pride, touched to be trusted with a task of this importance. _You knows I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, boss- you can count on me!_

Frank’s expression is still worried, but he doesn’t press any further. _Grover’s waiting down there, I’d better go update him before he starts eating sea shells again. And figure out what the hell I’m going to tell Reyna and Hazel._ He pauses, dejected. _And King Poseidon._

Percy winces. None of these tasks will be pleasant and he feels terrible for getting Frank caught up in his gigantic mess. But there are no other options at this point. _Tell them all I’m sorry, would you? And let Rachel and Tyson know that I’m OK? If any of you can ever slip away, just let one of Blackjack’s friends know and I’ll meet you here in a flash. Everything will be fine, I promise._ He tries his best to project reassurance, pretending for a moment to be the face of leadership his friend needed to see.

Frank looks marginally less ill at Percy’s confident expression. He offers Percy a weak smile and an exhausted wave goodbye before slipping back beneath the waves. Once Frank is out of range, Percy lets out an uneasy sigh, troubled by the weight of his decisions and the consequences for his loved ones. How much more selfish could he be, asking his friends to go through so much pain for the sake of one human? Was he as much of a traitor as his dad had nearly branded him? His heart aches, wishing more than anything he could ask his Mom if he was doing the right thing.

Blackjack’s cheerful voice in his head breaks is what breaks through his gloomy thoughts. _Alright boss, first things first. We gotta get you all dolled up, human style._

A small smile plays at Percy’s lips. No matter the danger of the past or present, he’s always been one to make the most of an adventure. _What did you have in mind?_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It takes an entire morning of arguing - including several not-so-small shouting matches and a threat to unleash the Stoll brothers on the physician’s stockroom - but Annabeth finally convinces Will to let her take an unaccompanied walk outside the palace. She hates feeling confined indoors even on the best of days- and between her friends treating her like she’s made of glass and exchanging concerned glances when they thought she wasn’t looking, she’d felt like even more of a caged animal than usual.

The solitude of the beach is comforting. It’s a relief to be away from the attendants of the palace with only Mrs. O’Leary hovering nearby. She breathes in the salty air and lets the rhythmic sound of the crashing waves settle her thoughts. The shimmering of the wind on the water’s surface somehow reminds Annabeth of her intangible savior, as if she can hear the echo of that otherworldly voice in the sound of tides.

She hadn’t brought up the subject again, even to Piper and Jason, knowing that it would just raise more questions about her sanity. The last thing she needed was the court to start gossiping about her leadership capabilities now that she was of age to take the throne. And even if she was willing to gamble her reputation on a wild goose chase (which she most certainly was _not_ ), she just couldn’t make sense of the facts. Why would someone go to the trouble of saving her and then immediately disappear? All signs pointed to the entire memory just being a figment of her imagination, conjured up by her battered brain. There was really no point in brooding over it any further, as she had told herself firmly a dozen times already.

But no matter how many times she tries, she just can’t silence the impulsive part of her that wants to fly in the face of all consequences and go searching the seas for the mystery figure from her vision. Even now, her eyes flit unconsciously towards the docks- but no, she had sworn multiple times to Will and everyone else that she would go nowhere near the boats. Piper had been loath to let Annabeth out unaccompanied and had promised in no uncertain terms that Annabeth would have to find a new best friend if she decided to go sailing on her own.

Both of her ladies-in-waiting were still horribly shaken by the events of last night, Silena in particular. Annabeth had never seen the older girl so quiet and pale, too perturbed to eat breakfast or even greet Beckendorf with a smile. And as much as Annabeth’s pride smarts at their doubt in her story, she will not betray their trust or cause them any more stress.

Her feet end up taking her towards the small stretch of coast where she had washed up last night. She hadn’t promised them anything about avoiding this place- maybe she could find some kind of clue that the others had missed, something that would prove he was real...

Suddenly, Mrs. O’Leary stills beside her, ears perking up as she sniffs the wind curiously. Before Annabeth can ask what’s wrong, the mastiff starts barking wildly and sprints down the beach like a bat out of hell.

“What the - Mrs. O’Leary, wait up!” Annabeth calls after the dog, jogging to catch her. The dog pays no heed to Annabeth’s call, turning sharply past a large sand dune and disappearing from sight. The booming timbre of her eager barks gets further away and Annabeth has to stop herself from sprinting to keep up, mindful of her promise to Will not to overexert herself.

“Come back here, girl! What’s gotten into-” The question dies in Annabeth’s throat as she rounds the corner and looks up to see the source of Mrs. O’Leary’s excitement.

A young man rests atop a large rock, looking mildly terrified of the large animal leaping about and splashing in the tidal pool at his feet. He looks about her age, with long, lean limbs and a nest of wind-blown black hair. His skin is a warm bronze, similar in complexion to the swarthy fisherman of the castle town- and Annabeth blushes reflexively at how much of it is on display. The makeshift tunic he wears - is it...made out of a _sail_? - hangs off a single shoulder strap and barely reaches his knees, leaving his chest and legs exposed. The sunlight kisses his skin, bathing him in a soft glow that makes him look like something out of a fairytale.

Mrs. O’Leary bounds back over to Annabeth and the boy lifts his gaze to follow her. Green eyes meet gray and the world comes to a stop.

She must be drowning. It’s the only explanation for the way her throat constricts, breath trapped in her lungs, the ground shifting like waves beneath her feet. She’s lost, floating away in the depths of his ocean-colored irises, so familiar and yet so completely unknown. Annabeth has never really understood the phrase about eyes being ‘windows to the soul’- having been raised in the cut-throat world of royal politics, both she and her peers were schooled in keeping their feelings under lock and key, eyes always guarded. But looking at him, the saying makes perfect sense- his eyes are so honest and open, she could spend hours categorizing every emotion she sees reflected in his gaze. She never wants to look away.

Distantly, she feels a sharp tug on her leg and looks down to see Mrs. O’Leary biting the hem of her pants, trying to pull her towards the boy. Breaking eye contact helps to bring her back to reality. She shakes off the trance and moves towards the stranger, calling out an apology as she approaches. “I’m so sorry if she scared you! She’s harmless, I promise…”

Annabeth trails off, distracted by his intense stare. His eyes are still locked on hers, hungrily drinking her in- and she _knows_ this gaze, her whole body resonates with the feeling she’s seen this expression before. The hushed words fall from her lips without thinking.

“Are you the one?”

He doesn’t respond but his eyes flash with heightened emotion, somehow both fervent and fearful at her question.

“Please, if you’re the one that saved me, I...I just want to thank you. Can you tell me - that is, can I just ask your name?”

His lips move but no sound comes out- his face twists in pain and his hand flies to his throat, brows drawing together in confusion. He again tries to speak but ends up looking strangled, tears springing to his eyes. The boy starts to cough and immediately covers his mouth - when he pulls his hand away, Annabeth can see a few flecks of blood on his palm.

“You’re hurt.” The realization dawns, kicking Annabeth’s mind back into focus. The boy still looks dumbfounded, clutching his throat like he can’t believe what’s happening.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you OK? First, let’s get to a doctor. We’ll figure out everything else once you’re taken care of, I promise. My name is Annabeth.”

She offers him a hand. He hesitates for a moment before placing his palm over hers. Their hands know each other- Annabeth swears she can feel an actual spark of recognition shoot through her fingertips at his touch. The boy jerks his hand away and she wonders if he felt the same inexplicable electricity. He forgoes her hand in favor of pushing himself to sitting, stretching his feet towards the ground tentatively. He looks unsure, as if he doesn’t know whether his legs will bear weight.

He stumbles as soon as he slides off the rock and almost falls to the ground, but Annabeth moves to catch him instinctively. Her arms go to support his waist and his hands clutch her shoulders for balance. He looks at her, eyes wide and desperate - she can feel his hands tighten on the fabric of her sleeve, like he doesn’t want to let her go. He’s close, so close that his breath tickles her face and she can count his eyelashes, dark and thick enough that even Silena would be jealous. Annabeth is hyper-aware of the heat radiating from his (basically naked) chest and feels her blush returning full force.

“Um. Can you stand?” She pulls away and shifts to his side, supporting his weight with an arm under his shoulder. She feels weirdly relieved and disappointed at the loss of his closeness. He wobbles again, shaking like a newborn colt. She tightens her hold around his back as he leans against her in a hopeless attempt to gain his balance.

And well, if she enjoys the way his warm weight feels at her side as they make their way up to the palace...no one has to know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“OK, now stick your tongue out and say ‘ah’?”

Percy does as the blonde doctor requests, but he’s still unable to make a sound- when he tries, his throat burns with a familiar sting, a small echo of the agony he experienced with the transformation. Or, more accurately, a reminder of the price extracted from him.

The doctor peers into the back of Percy’s mouth with a small scope. Percy stares at the blank ceiling of the medical bay, hands gripping the white linen of the cot he’s seated on- he distracts himself with the feel of the starchy fabric beneath his fingers, marveling at the strange texture instead of the uncomfortable ache of keeping his jaw stretched open. He should be ecstatic, _overjoyed_ , to be here and seeing so many humans and their gadgets up close, but he’s just...numb. It’s hard to feel anything through the disbelief of being rendered mute.

“Hm...I can see your vocal chords- everything is completely intact. I actually don’t see any swelling or signs of damage to the pharynx at all.” The man’s voice is perplexed as he withdraws the instrument from Percy’s mouth and drops it in a bucket of soapy solution.

“What does that mean?” Annabeth’s voice is tense. One of her attendants, a brunette with tawny skin, places a hand on her shoulder in what Percy assumes is a gesture of comfort.

“As far as I can tell, there is no injury to explain why he lost his voice. Maybe it’s some kind of post-traumatic mutism? I suppose it’s also possible he hasn’t been able to speak for some time and the wounds have healed.”

Annabeth’s eyes are stormy as she processes this information. “I guess...he can’t be who I thought he was, then.”

Percy wants to scream in frustration, but of course he can’t. How could this be considered an “equivalent exchange”? Did the cosmic forces behind the spell think his life was a joke? The ritual had given him legs and then crippled him to the point of uselessness. He would never be able to warn her without being able to speak; the threat of war was not something one could communicate through body language. And worse- without his voice, he’s cut off from his healing powers. What if she was injured, or near death? He’d been better positioned to protect her as a merman.

The realization is a poison, caustic and sour in his veins. He grimaces.

The doctor - Will - notices. He pours a golden liquid into a small vial and hands it to Percy.

“Here, this should at least help with the pain. I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

Percy accepts the draught cautiously. He takes a small sip and is pleasantly surprised by its soothing warmth, reminiscent of his mother’s gentle touch. The ache in his throat and the bitterness of his disappointment fade just slightly- he has to admit the human medicine is effective, even without the aid of a healing song. He tries to convey his gratitude to Will with a smile.

“Annabeth, there you are! What is going on? I just heard orders to prep a small fleet for a search voyage?” A broad-shouldered man and a smaller, fidgety teen, both of whom Percy recognizes from Annabeth’s celebration last night - _gods, had it really only been yesterday?_ \- enter the medical bay. The taller man is the one who spoke, his expression grim.

“Beckendorf, Valdez, perfect timing. Yes, I just found this young man washed ashore and thought it best to move quickly to search for other survivors. We’ll set sail as soon as possible-”

Percy jumps to his feet in panic. _No!_ he tries to shout, ignoring the fire in his throat, _Don’t go out there!_ He falters almost immediately, falling to his knees on the hard tile. Will rushes forward to support him but Percy barely registers the stumble, still gazing up beseechingly at Annabeth. He yells out with his thoughts, trying to communicate a telepathic warning- but her mind remains just as closed to him as it did on the beach.

Luckily, his behavior is bizarre enough to draw attention. The two women behind Annabeth draw back, perturbed by his reaction, but the princess is unfazed. She kneels to face Percy directly. “What’s wrong? Don’t you want us to go looking for whoever else was on your ship?” Her voice is confused.

Percy shakes his head vehemently, eyes wide and frantic. Annabeth’s brows furrow and he can almost see the gears turning in her head as she tries to unravel exactly what this response entails. Even in this moment of alarm, part of him can’t help but note that her analytical stare is...cute. He forces himself to look away from her as Will helps him to his feet, wracking his brain for a way to convince her away from traveling by sea for the foreseeable future.

Luckily, Beckendorf chimes in. “Well, it’s not possible anyways. Master Chiron instructed me to belay any orders involving the navy after the incident last night.” Everyone else in the room (especially Percy) relaxes at this news, but Annabeth frowns. She stands to face the captain, her posture impeccably straight.

“That’s not his decision to make.” Her voice is even but Percy notices her nostrils flare just slightly. She’s irked by this for some reason, he can tell.

The younger one - an engineer, Percy guesses, based on the array of tools in his belt - shrugs. “You’ll have to take it up with him, princess. Apparently, I need to figure out how to lightning-proof the entire fleet before anyone’ll let you step foot on a boat again.” The last bit comes out as a grumble that earns him a sharp look from the brown-haired woman.

Annabeth mutters something about know-it-all teachers before turning again to Percy. “It seems a search party will have to wait. At the very least, we can offer you shelter here until you’re recovered.”

Beckendorf’s eyebrows shoot up at that. “Princess, are you sure that’s a good idea? I’m certain we could find him room and board in the town. It’s a liability to have a...stranger in the palace.” He speaks softly, words meant for Annabeth alone, but his voice carries to Percy. A few others - most notably, a man with blue eyes and cropped hair - nod in agreement.

Annabeth’s eyes flash. “Do you not trust my judgement, Captain?”

The man bows in apology at her sharp tone. “Of course I do, my lady.”

“It’s only for the safety of everyone in the palace, Annabeth.” The blue-eyed man - who Percy now sees has a scar on his lip that reminds him of a fish hook injury - adds in a serious voice.

The princess lifts her chin a fraction of an inch. “While Queen Athena is away, I have the final say in decisions regarding the crown’s hospitality. I assure you, I take the safety of our kingdom’s inhabitants incredibly seriously- and that extends to those who wash up on our shore,” she says curtly. “And I will of course assume full responsibility for him until he is well enough to continue his journey.”

Her voice makes it clear that there will be no budging on the matter. Percy feels his heart flutter at the thought that she might trust him, even just slightly. Maybe his unrelenting wish to protect her was coming through somehow.

“Connor? Travis? Would you please help our guest wash up and find him a fresh change of clothes? I’m certain something in my brother’s wardrobe will suffice.”

Two young men with similar auburn hair and mischievous features look up from their task of reorganizing scrolls on the far wall. They glance at each other, then offer Annabeth a salute and walk towards Percy. Something about their trouble-making smiles immediately put Percy on guard.

Annabeth re-captures his attention with a small smile and suddenly Percy’s legs feel like jelly again. He grips the cot for balance, just in case. “My attendants will see to a fresh bath and a guest room for you. Would you like to join us for supper afterwards, if you’re feeling up to it?” she asks gently. “And maybe we can think of a way for you to share your story with us?”

Percy nods, entranced, too distracted by her expression - _how is it possible for her eyes to look more beautiful every time he notices them?_ \- to realize what he’s agreed to. As he’s following Connor and Travis out of the medical bay, it dawns on him that an interrogation with Annabeth is probably not going to go well when he has a million things to hide.

Still, he can’t bring himself to regret agreeing; current circumstances about sea-faring notwithstanding, he can’t imagine a universe where he is ever able to say no to her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chiron’s private study has been Annabeth’s home-within-a-home for as long as she can remember. During her childhood, the palace and its marble walls often felt more like a cage than a residence. She can’t count the number of times she had escaped her handmaidens or tutors in search of an adventure in the gardens, the stables, the town- as far away as she could get, really. Each escapade would inevitably end in this room, Annabeth seated on the plush carpet with her arms crossed as Chiron lectured her on the dangers of traveling outside the castle before finally capitulating and asking her what she had learned, at which point she would leap excitedly into his lap and regale him with her favorite moments of the day.

Annabeth smiles fondly at the memories as she gazes out one of the beautiful bay windows behind Chiron’s desk. His view of the western beach is astounding, and the orange light of the sunset illuminates the wooden bookshelves and furniture with a magical aura.

“I don’t suppose you’ve come to thank me for pre-emptively preventing your untimely death at sea?” Her mentor’s bemused question pulls her out of her nostalgia. She turns to face him, feeling both comforted and annoyed by his calm expression. He’s arranged himself in a snug armchair by the fireplace, a steaming cup of tea in hand.

“I’d hardly call shutting down the royal navy a ‘preventive measure’, Chiron,” she responds with a scoff. “What happened last night was a one-in-a-million occurrence. It’s ridiculous to let the fear of such an unlikely accident deter us from what must be done.”

“Ah, but was it really such an isolated event, my dear? More and more guilds are reporting disruptions in sea trade: multiple ships have vanished without a trace, their crew and cargo never seen again. Not to mention the reports of monsters appearing from the ocean’s depths, swallowing vessels whole.”

Annabeth looks at Chiron incredulously. “Please don’t tell me that Parthenos’s Chief Adviser has decided to give serious consideration to the stories of drunken sailors.”

Chiron sighs, troubled. He sets down his teacup on the wooden table in front of him. “Perhaps I am being overly cautious, trying to draw conclusions from these rumors. But I cannot simply dismiss them as coincidence at this point. When you have reached my age, it becomes easier to recognize when a darker force is at work.” His expression turns weary, highlighting the wrinkles in his brow, the streaks of gray in his dark hair and beard.

Annabeth’s annoyance thaws out immediately. “Well, far be it from me to doubt the wisdom from one as ancient as yourself,” she teases. He chuckles at that.

“If only that would lead you to seek my counsel _before_ extending a welcome to any mysterious characters the tide drags in.”

Annabeth feels her cheeks grow hot, blaming it on the indignance that rushes through her. “He’s completely harmless! I happen to be an excellent judge of character- and I am certain he is no threat.”

As she finishes, the sound of footsteps on tile draws her attention to the doorway. “Come on bud, no reason to be shy!” She recognizes the taunt in Connor’s voice as he and Travis walk over the threshold, guiding someone into the room.

The green-eyed boy steps into view and Annabeth’s jaw almost drops.

Her first thought is that she’s going to murder the Stolls. They had Malcolm’s entire wardrobe to select from, so of course they had chosen the one outfit that she couldn’t look at without an embarrassed groan: a pastel pink doublet with ridiculously puffy sleeves that had once been part of Annabeth’s best ball gown, before she had slashed the offending garment in half during a fit of teen rebellion. Part of her punishment had been to stitch the remains into something salvageable (“to give her appreciation for the effort and craftsmanship of the royal tailors”), culminating in an ill-fitting tunic that had proceeded to gather dust in the back of Malcolm’s armoire.

Despite the shoddy stitching around the collar (which Annabeth recognizes as her own handiwork), he really does look...perfect. He is lean enough that the large round shoulder caps don’t overwhelm his shape, while still being broad enough to fill in the jacket nicely. White breeches accentuate the long lines of his legs. His bright green eyes are wide with excitement, his black hair is just unruly enough to look effortless, and his freshly-washed skin is practically glowing- completed by the faint blush appearing on his cheeks from how long Annabeth’s been staring.

“How does it feel to see someone finally model your design, Your Highness?” Travis asks with a not-so-subtle snicker.

She shoots him a glare. “See if I don’t put the both of you on dish duty for a month to improve your sense of humor,” she threatens, but they both know it’s empty.

“What’ve you done this time, Trav?” Katie, one of the kitchen maids, asks as she enters the study, followed by the manservants Castor and Pollux. All three of them carry platters of food, which they set down on the center table and begin arranging plates and cutlery. Travis sidles up to Katie in a flash and launches animatedly into the story of Annabeth’s failed sewing project.

“I apologize for their behavior,” Annabeth says softly as she approaches the still-blushing boy, “They can’t help acting like children. How are you feeling?”

He opens his mouth to respond and immediately winces, lightly touching his throat. He instead offers her a shrug and a shy smile. Annabeth can’t help softening at his sweet expression.

“Don’t push yourself too much, alright? Just take it slowly. You’re already so much steadier on your feet,” she observes, “I’m sure a few more days rest will be just what you need.”

He doesn’t respond, instead choosing to stare at with the same electric intensity as earlier this morning. Annabeth averts her gaze automatically, focusing on the floor. Something about his fervor and his fresh appearance and the fact that he’s _wearing something she made_ makes her feel unsettled, unable to meet his eyes.

A bright peal of laughter from the doorway startles Annabeth into looking up. Piper is clearly amused by her companion's outfit, clutching Jason for support as she and Silena enter the study. “What a dashing ensemble for our guest! Was this a special request of yours, Annabeth?” she asks with a sly grin.

Connor, Travis, Castor, and Pollux start chortling while Katie does her best to look admonishing. Annabeth glowers, her earlier mortification returning in force. “Piper, I swear to all the gods I will dismiss you from my retinue. And force you to take the Stolls back to your father's estate.”

“You wound me, Your Highness.” Piper presses the back of her hand to her forehead with a dramatic flourish. “I’m simply complimenting your tastes.” She gives Annabeth a shameless wink and Silena hides a laugh behind her hand.

Annabeth pointedly ignores the double-meaning behind Piper’s comment, flustered. “Where are my manners? It’s long past time I introduced you to everyone.” Annabeth gestures to the room at large in an attempt to change the subject. “These two are my close friends and attendants, Lady Piper of House McClean and Lady Silena, eldest daughter of the Beauregards.” Piper and Silena both curtsy in his direction. He bows elegantly to each of them, surprising Annabeth with the easy display of etiquette.

“This is Prince Jason, second-in-line to the throne of Olympia.” Jason nods deeply and the boy returns the greeting.

“You’ve already met Connor and Travis, of the Stoll merchant family- they usually attend to my brother Malcolm, but they’ve decided to become professional nuisances while he’s away.” The brothers smirk at that, apparently taking pride in Annabeth’s assessment.

“Katie, Castor, and Pollux are some of the best aides of the palace staff- and they’re extremely accommodating about bringing supper to the study when we don’t make it to the dining hall for evening meals,” she finishes sheepishly. Katie rolls her eyes affectionately.

“No need to butter me up, Your Highness.” She smiles amiably. “Don’t hesitate to ask me if you need anything, you hear?” With that, she marches out of the study, Castor and Pollux trailing behind her.

“And lastly we have Master Chiron- he’s the head of Parthenos’s Council of Advisors and one of the most renowned scholars in the country,” Annabeth finishes proudly.

Chiron waves off her compliment and offers Percy a kind smile. “It’s good to meet you, my boy. Tell me, where do you hail from?”

He frowns, unsure how to explain, until Chiron quickly adds, “Ah yes, I’ve been informed about your condition- perhaps, you could communicate to us by writing?” The older man gestures to the writing table near the windows.

The boy looks quizzical, cocking his head to the side. Annabeth leads him towards the desk and removes a fresh quill from an open inkwell. She offers it to him but he only stares blankly- she quirks an eyebrow when he makes no move to take the quill from her. “Do you not know how to write?”

He shakes his head slowly before taking the quill, running his fingers delicately along the feathered end. Annabeth frowns at his uncertainty. He clearly understands speech based on their interactions so far- it would be extremely unusual for a citizen of Parthenos or any of the surrounding kingdoms to not have at least rudimentary writing skills from compulsory childhood education. Maybe he’d washed up even further away from home than she had originally guessed.

“That is unfortunate indeed. Is there any other way we can deliver a message for you? Surely there are people who should know you’re alive and safe?” Chiron’s voice is somber as he ponders the limited options for them to communicate.

An unreadable expression flits across the boy’s face. Annabeth focuses on his eyes instinctively, having been able to read his emotions so easily from them before. They swim with a mixture of feelings - _guilt? grief? anger?_ \- for just a moment before he turns to look out the window. Something about the way he gazes at the ocean is so melancholy that Annabeth feels her heart clench.

“Maybe I can teach you?” Annabeth asks quietly. Possessed by an impulse, she reaches her hand out to rest on top of his, repositioning the quill in his fingers. She feels him tense for a moment before relaxing into her grip as she guides his hand downwards, ink touching paper. She absolutely _refuses_ to blush- she has no reason to be self-conscious about doing something she’s done this countless times. She’d held Malcolm and Piper’s hands when teaching them their letters years ago, she tells herself, this is no different at all. The sudden quickening of her pulse is completely unrelated.

The nib leaves a small splotch of ink on the white stationary. She directs his hand in a small motion, forming a crisp black line across the paper. He turns to look at her in wonder, amazed by the simple act of making a mark on the page, and she’s once again startled by how incredibly _familiar_ this awed expression feels-

“Annabeth, can we finish dinner and then do calligraphy lessons? I’m _starving_.” Piper’s whiny voice interrupts. The rest of the group is already seated around the dining table, clearly waiting for Annabeth to take the first bite before beginning their meal, as per royal custom.

She releases his hand immediately, feeling completely out of sorts. What on earth was she doing, being completely drawn in by someone she had never met before? It was preposterous- she was heir to the throne of a vast kingdom, not a lovesick schoolgirl. “Shall we eat?” she asks the boy calmly, determined to play the role of a stoic leader.

His eyebrows knit together, gaze returning longingly to the quill and paper. His torn expression reminds her of a puppy trying to choose between two toys. She laughs helplessly. “I promise to teach you more tomorrow, if you want?”

He nods eagerly, grinning from cheek-to-cheek. Annabeth can’t help giggling again at his child-like enthusiasm - and he has _dimples_ for godsakes. Her stony mask is no match for them. How could anyone not be utterly charmed?

Annabeth senses a piercing stare trained on her face - she looks to see Piper’s eyes twinkling dangerously. “Who are you and what have you done with Crown Princess Annabeth of Parthenos? I haven’t seen you laugh like that since we were kids.” Her voice is suspicious in a way that makes Annabeth feel caught red-handed.

“You’re imagining things,” Annabeth denies quickly. Piper looks unconvinced. “Let’s just eat, OK?” Annabeth busies herself with pulling out a chair for the young man at her side before settling herself at the head of the table.

She spends the rest of the evening trying to avoid Piper’s knowing glances and pretending her heart doesn’t beat wildly whenever she notices the green eyes and innocent smile sitting across from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> percy's outfit in this last scene inspired by the incredible dorodraws and her rendition of [the little mermaid rule 63](https://dorodraws.tumblr.com/post/64645561593/i-may-or-may-not-have-been-looking-for-an-excuse). full credits to her for this perfect design, please check her out!! :)
> 
> thank you for reading!! as always, comments are treasured and appreciated <3


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